


My Blood, My Blood Spilled For Your Love

by Glitched_Opportunity



Series: Kinktober 2020 Collection, AG [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Aftermath of the C-virus, Amputee, Body Worship, Emotional Sex, M/M, Mirror Sex, Physical Trauma, Piers lives AU, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitched_Opportunity/pseuds/Glitched_Opportunity
Summary: Chris wants to show Piers how little has changed between them; Piers only wants a taste of normalcy again.
Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield
Series: Kinktober 2020 Collection, AG [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948933
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	My Blood, My Blood Spilled For Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the comments for making me want to write more of this ship

**My Blood, My Blood Spilled For Your Love**

Piers had seen a mirror far bigger than the one before him; carved with elegant designs on the trim and framed on a large wall. It was shattered, broken glass everywhere. But that was nothing like this one. Clean and with a simple black frame, the mirror before him -sat perfectly to face their shared bed- nearly showed him the whole room. It wasn’t hung up yet, slanted against the wall but almost flush with it. He still remembers his reflection in that broken mirror, distorted face covered in dust and clothing dotted red and brown. Shaking hands holding tightly to his rifle, knuckles white under his gloves to hide how his nerves had taken a hold of him. What he sees in the reflection now reminds him of that. 

Though he is shirtless, the scars that crawl up his right remind Piers of the blood and gore that had clung to his uniform -scars similar to the splatter of blood. How the B.O.W.s had nearly the same patterns of mutation, how the J’avo looked the same all over. 

Piers doesn’t look at his face now, only at his chest and feet. His left hand dances over his collar bone, delicate fingers following the lines up to his shoulder. The salvaged stump still aches, burns with a phantom sensation of electricity licking up his ruined nerves. He shivers at the feeling. It isn’t too much anymore, only a sharp stab of remembrance that he will never forget. If Piers tries, he can flex the stump. He stares in morbid fascination at how the leftover muscle flexes, brain able to recreate his arm for a few moments. 

“Are you..” Piers starts too quietly, “are you sure you wanna do this?” Louder, he calls out to Chris.

From the bathroom, Chris calls back, “I wanna try it,” a moment's pause, then, “but if you’re not comfortable-”

“No! I just- I.. it’s fine, Chris,” Piers can’t shake the nerves from his voice. 

Chris’ head pokes out from the bathroom, hair still damp from his shower, “Are you sure?”

Through the mirror, Piers nods to him. 

The brunette squints. There’s uncertainty in his eyes, “...Okay,” Chris finally says, sporting a soft smile as he ducks back into the bathroom. 

Piers smiles back before he disappears, eyes lingering longer than necessary on the doorframe. He tells himself that it’s not to avoid looking back to himself, but it’s hard to believe that lie. 

A fog paints Piers’ right eye, discolouring hazel and white sclera. It’s the same milky shade from his mutation. Piers doesn’t like to look at it. The webs that climb his skin, he hates those more. He hates how they look almost like the bones of a dying coral reef, patterning his right side with a traitorous mark of the sea. He hates how those marks travel down his hip. His shoulder is much the same, smaller and awkward but not horribly so against the rest of him. 

Caught up in mapping out the changes to his flesh, Piers misses Chris standing in the doorway. He also misses how the man only dons a towel. Hung low on his hips, the plush material clings to his drying body. Piers smiles at Chris when he finally notices the man walking up behind him in the mirror, lips curling a little further with amusement at the short strands of hair that stood straight up on his head. A beautiful mess of brown and chestnut, he thinks. Chris returns the look. 

“Can I?” Chris asks. 

Piers blushes, “Uh- y-yeah..”

Gentle with his hands, Chris lays them over Piers’ hips, much higher on the right side. He brings the smaller man flush against his chest as he rests his chin on his shoulder, taking in Piers’ form through the reflection. Chris can see so much more of him like this, everything on display for the both of them. Even the nervous shuffling and fidgeting Piers does is more apparent now. It is almost endearing to see; Though, it sparks a need inside of him to go and comfort Piers, make him feel safe and protected. That feeling only grows as the flush on his patterned face worsens. 

Piers looks away from Chris. He can feel his cheeks warm, burning all the way up to his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, Piers can still see his legs. He can see the top of Chris’ hands too. His own awkwardly hangs at his side, fingers unsure what to do. Saved from his useless fiddling, Chris grabs his wrist and guides his arm to rest behind Chris’ neck. Piers happily holds the older man’s nape, playing with the short tails of hair there. It helps him swallow his anxiety. Despite it feeling as though the fear is trying to eat him alive, he stands there, stable enough on his own two legs for the moment because Chris is holding him. Knowing that Chris is here makes it easier to look at the consequences of what he'd done, at the remains of his body. Piers doesn’t want to feel the tight pull of skin that only aches and throbs. 

Chris’ hands start there. He feels up Piers’ right side, hand light as he follows the intricate patterns up to the brunette’s shoulder. It takes everything in Piers to not flinch at the first touch. His shoulder still jumps and his mouth still opens on a quiet sound. Mortified, Piers shies away from the touch. But Chris is gentle as he follows, leaving room for Piers to retreat and only touching him again when the man’s shoulders soften. Piers will be ever grateful for how patient Chris has become. 

Smoothing his hand out against Piers’ chest, Chris holds him closer in a careful hug. He nestles his head in the back of Piers’ neck, peppering little kisses down his untouched shoulder. Encouraged by the soft kneading against his scalp, Chris travels down Piers’ spine. Though he can only reach so far, Chris touches what he can. And he reaches quickly, cut short only when he feels Piers’ knees start to buckle. 

Chris wastes no time in guiding the man to the floor. He’s still kissing the back of Piers’ neck as they go, easing him down to rest in his lap. The smaller man winces when Chris has to tighten his arms around him, hand holding on painfully to the taller man’s neck. Chris does all he can to calm Piers, fully aware of how the kid beats himself up for being weak. _It’s not your fault_ , Chris tries to remind him. But there is only so much he can do to ease the troubles that lurk in his mind. 

Chris doesn’t mind when the towel falls away. His legs are dry enough for it to not be an issue. He cages them around Piers’, holding him close. Piers pulls on Chris’ neck, shifting himself higher until his hips are against Chris’ own. It’s annoyingly slow with only one hand to help, but he appreciates that Chris lets him take his time. Piers appreciates it even more when Chris nestles back into him, playing with his hair. It is easier, somewhat, to watch himself in the mirror without the added gaze. He’s had Chris’ eyes on him a hundred times before, but like this, knowing that he isn’t watching somehow makes it more comfortable to see himself. It is still hard to ignore how different it feels now to be held. 

Tearing his gaze from Chris, Piers manages to look clearly at himself. He has to admit that he sees the appeal. Seeing what Chris was doing to his chest, how his head moves as he kisses and licks up and down his back. It was amazing to see what Chris was doing to him like this even with everything else.

“Want me to take this slow?” Chris mumbles. 

Piers has to think for a moment. Of all the times they had done this, fast or rough was often the calling card. He enjoyed it greatly, head rummaging through his memory to produce blood pumping imagery that sent him down a spiral of- It was too much to think about. So Piers murmurs, “Whatever you wanna do..”

Chris hums, “Should I tell you what I want to do and go from there?”

Piers can feel his heart flutter, “I think I would like that.”

Placing one last kiss on his spine, Chris rests his head on Piers’ shoulder, “Well, I want you to watch -you don’t have to of course- while I show you just how good your body looks,” the flush on Piers travels down, “I am going to kiss every scar you have, every mark, every dip and mound..” Chris breathes in, eyes fluttering as he creates his own fantasy too, “And when I’m sure you understand how I feel, when I’m sure you _feel_ it too, I’m going to take you nice and slow.”

Piers bites his lips, paranoia and arousal swimming around in his head in an intoxicating mix.

“Remember the first time? When I wanted to kiss every inch and feel every part of you?” Piers nods. Chris smiles, “I want to do that to you all over again.”

The brunette squirms a bit. Blood is quickly moving south for the both of them. It is hard to ignore the semi hard-on Chris sports, pressing slowly into his back side. It is harder to ignore his own, straining against his sweats. 

“I.. would like that,” Piers feels very small right now. But he’s safe because he’s with Chris, his Captain, the man that saved him when he was more than ready to sacrifice himself for the BSAA. 

As Chris said he would, he starts slow. Groping at Muscle and scar tissue, Chris roams the expanse of Piers’ chest and sides. He kneads at the man’s stomach, petting over his hips, under his arm. The uneven terrain left an interesting impression, one that would never stop feeling unique to Piers. Strange already to his hands, the scar tissue feels stranger to his lips. The texture he feels as he plants kiss after soft kiss to Piers’ shoulder and neck was one that simply couldn’t be replicated. Piers might not be able to feel him as well on his right, but the tickle of Chris’ lips has him humming none the less. 

Chris creates a trail of wet up Piers’ neck, kissing just under his chin. He places a peck behind the Brunette’s ear and this time Piers shivers. Then Chris plants a sloppy kiss to Piers’ cheek. It’s sticky and the saliva clings among the grooves made throughout his skin, but Piers can’t seem to mind the coolness it brings. He sighs, sinking limply into Redfield’s embrace. Lazily, he turns his head to meet him, peppering a tiny kiss to Chris’ mouth himself. In return, Chris takes him in a more firm and grounding kiss. Piers wiggles, body begging for him to turn around and let Chris devour him completely. Chris doesn’t need to hold him in place to keep him there. 

Gone from grabbing at his chest, Chris’ hands grope at Piers’ thighs, squeezing and massaging near his hips. Piers whines into their kiss, moving with Chris, following after his hands and pushing against them when they squeeze at his pelvis. He can’t stop himself from rolling his hips up, hoping that the action would bring him some sort of friction. He finds no such luck. No closer to his goals, Piers brings his thighs together instead, rubbing them together as though the fabric of both his briefs and sweats would help ease the pressure that has pushed his erection to full mast. This, too, doesn’t help. It only makes him yearn for Chris’ touch, makes him feel distantly like his teenage self when he’d chase after anything for his release. 

“Do you want me to help?” Chris must have read his goddamn mind. 

Enthusiastically, Piers nods. For once, he can see the smirk that pulls at Chris’ face in response to his desperation. 

“You’re so good for me.. Always so good.” 

Finally, Chris gropes at his crotch. Piers lets out a sob of relief. His member throbs within its confines, his leg twitching. He tries desperately not to kick out at the sudden pleasure. Masterful as always with his hand, Chris rubs him through his sweats, teasing the blood further down his cock. It’s not hard for him to wrap his fingers around the bulging fabric, getting a lovely hold of his dick. And with how he twists his wrist just so- Piers swears he could cum right now from that touch alone. But he doesn’t want to do that, and all the whines and keens coming from his throat are doing nothing to deter Chris. If anything, they only encourage him.

Piers rolls his hips into Chris’ fist, nails leaving crescents in the man’s shoulder as he lifts out of his lap. His body was in control, chasing after every jerk and twist and pump Chris gave him. A perfect rhythm even through the many layers. Piers curses, eyes squeezing shut as he feels the pressure build and build. His muscles tighten in his stomach, chest trying to curl in. Chris’ hand pushes him back down, keeps him still. 

“Look at yourself. So beautiful, so handsome for me.”

The mirror was the last thing on Piers' mind right now.

Chris lets go of him and Piers thinks he could cry out. He does, actually, eyes snapping open to look at Chris. His disappointment doesn’t last long. His Captain slides his hand into his sweats, deft fingers slip right under his briefs and head straight for his dick. He might cry for real this time because the sob he lets out is loud and his eye is dotted with moisture. Piers’ whole abdomen shakes, going rigid as the pressure tips and sends a cascade of pleasure through his body. He’d be embarrassed if that orgasm wasn’t one of the best damn things he’s experienced so far tonight. Piers sags in relief, whimpering softly as Chris milks what he can out of him. Chris doesn’t stop pumping him until his dick feels softer in his hands, and even then his hand never leaves Piers’ pants. 

Chris hardly offers him a moment's break, “Think you can give me one more?”

Piers doesn’t know what to think. 

Shakily, Piers nods, “Just.. give me a sec.”

As he comes down, Piers finally _looks_ at himself. He quivers all over again. He’s flushed horribly, everything from the collar up a blaring pink against his olive skin. The tips of his ears are practically red. A single tear falls down his cheek. It is more erotic than he’d like to admit to see his lover’s hand down his pants, even more erotic when Chris squeezes and Piers gets to watch first hand what it looks like as he writhes and keens from overstimulating pleasure. 

He wouldn’t describe himself as wrecked, but he is sure he’ll get there.

“You’re doing so good,” Chris praises.

As gentle as one can be when stroking an oversensitive dick, Chris coaxes Piers, urging his body back to arousal. Piers might have been embarrassed if it had been the first time they’ve done this. 

“Can you lift your hips for me, baby?”

Piers does so without fault. His hand never has to leave Chris’ shoulder, instead, using that as the leverage he needs to lift himself and let Chris push his sweats down his thighs. Piers kicks them off while Chris fumbles with the waistband of his briefs-

“That’s right. Perfect.”

-They catch around his knees but that’s okay because Chris has got his hand on his bare skin now and Piers wants so much more of it. He doesn’t care how weird it looks; How the scars stay the same discoloured cream against his skin. He doesn’t care if the flush doesn’t change it, doesn’t care how it pulls at his chest and throbs against him because his cock throbs just the same in Chris’ hand. He just wants _more_.

“How do you want me?”

Piers cannot think of a response fast enough, “Inside me, Chris- Please!”

Chris shushes him with gentle touches, “Shh. Shh, I know, baby. Want me to take you here?”

Piers nods frantically. 

Chris nods slowly with him, “Okay, baby. Anything for you,” as though Chris had any plans of moving if he didn’t have to. 

Thankful for his own careful planning, Chris reaches for the lube he took from the bathroom - the condom he grabbed as well is left alone for now. With practiced ease, Chris pops the cap and spurts a generous sum onto his fingers, lathering them well before abandoning the tube. He rubs the fluid between his fingers, warming it slightly before he traces Piers’ hole. The man’s squirms and twitches above him, eyes fixed on his reflection. Chris is careful, massaging the muscle around until he feels Piers’ thighs begin to relax. Then he sinks in. One knuckle deep and Piers is already moaning above him. Chris rubs at Piers’ walls, guiding his finger deeper. He takes his time to open the man up, slow and considerate as he eases the second inside. Piers is breathless before the third even touches him. 

That familiar warmth and stretch traverses through Piers’ chest. A loving tingle fills his legs. Piers cannot spread his knees the way he wants to but he can’t be bothered to reach down and untangle his underwear. 

Trying to relax Piers further, Chris pays a great deal of attention to his sensitive neck and chest. Both his hand and mouth assault the delicate flesh, and though Piers whines at the loss of stimulation on his cock, he whines again in response to the sudden pinch of his nipple. Chris loves to play with them, but this time he doesn’t linger. He favours the scars that come across Piers’ right pec, following them down his stomach and hip. It’s soothing like almost everything he does, calming his muscles and helping Piers relax when Chris finally adds a fourth finger. On an average night, Piers might have complained, told Chris that he was going overboard, begged ‘ _I’m ready, please Chris, I’m ready’_. He does none of that. Piers lets him take his time; And, Chris only stops when he’s certain Piers is ready. 

Thorough might have been an understatement, but Piers is open and ready when the brunette’s fingers slip free. Piers lets out a delicious whimper, canting his hips up at the loss of feeling. Chris helps Piers with his briefs before he gropes at the ground. His hand finds what he was looking for rather quickly; And, wasting no time, Chris holds the condom in front of Piers' mouth. With no hesitation, Piers grabs the corner with his teeth, tearing the plastic open for Chris. That rips the first real groan from Chris’ mouth, eyes glued to the sniper’s lips. Piers holds the corner in his mouth, waiting as Chris hooks his knees over his thighs. The captain’s dick bobs between Piers’ legs. 

After Piers settles, Chris takes the condom back and rolls it over his length. He adds lubrication to his dick as well before wiping his hand on the ground. Piers might curse him for that later, but for now, he holds his breath as Chris grabs his hips, lifting them up and guiding his hole down to his cock. Piers shakes as the head pushes past the ring, muscle sucking him in further. Piers trembles, thankful that it is Chris’ hands on his hips, holding up his weight. He fears he would have fallen otherwise.

“There we go, baby. There we go..” Chris is just as breathless. 

Piers revels in the familiar feeling of Chris; The sweat, the musk, the feeling of his cock deep inside of him as he clenches down. Feeling Chris throb within him and shiver behind him is fantastic. And the praise is only sending more to his spine and filling his head with a pleasant warmth.

As he meets Chris’ hips, Piers' toes curl, thighs aching as they clench. He tries to hold as still as he can, tries to keep the wiggling to a minimum as Chris pets over his stomach and hides his face in his neck. The man starts kissing down his back again. And it’s that that gets him to stare only at the mirror. He’s a mess. Slightly overgrown hair sticks to his forehead, slicked with sweat. His eyes and cheeks are puffy, red dotting his skin. The fog in his eye doesn’t bother him that much anymore. Seeing his legs spread open, his own dick erect and leaking, and Chris- He’s never seen what it looks like before, how Chris’ cock splits him open so completely, but God if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Scars be damned.

“Look at you. Taking all of me.. Fucking amazing. Gorgeous..” Chris babbles on, compliments lost under his breath as speech only becomes harder. 

Both of them are close, Piers sensitive and Chris leaning ever closer to the edge he’s been sitting on. He hasn’t even thrust yet and he already feels like he’s going to blow his load. Piers must feel it too, with how intensely his legs shake and how he desperately tries to not roll his hips. Chris can see it, how he aborts every movement his body craves and whines low in his throat when he moves too far and shivers around Chris’ cock. He can feel that more, his own body resisting the urge to jerk up.

“Go on, baby,” Chris encourages, “You can move.”

And Piers does.

Blindly pleasure shoots through them both with the smallest rock, Chris groaning under his breath, Piers gasping and twitching. His cock is an angry red, bobbing with his movements as it just begs for attention. But it is forgotten in all but the mirror as Piers rocks his hips back and forth. He looks debauched, mouth agape and eye unfocused. Chris doesn’t look much better, panting and skin slick, body rolling into his movements and biting down on Piers’ shoulder. It does nothing to muffle him, and it does everything to make Piers cry out in a beautiful crescendo that shortly comes to a sudden halt. But his mouth remains open in a silent yell. It’s all his body can do as his second orgasm crashes through him.

Piers’ muscles clamp down, chest tight and thighs squeezing Chris’ own. His cum splatters his chest and legs, pleasure high and strong in his head as Chris thrusts up into him. Piers tries to rock with him, movements unsteady and weak, but he tries. It doesn’t take much to bring Chris over the edge as well. Chris lets out a guttural sound, arms secure around Piers’ chest as he plants himself deeply inside of him. Piers can feel his seed faintly through the rubber and whines low in his throat.

It takes a while for Chris to stop squeezing Piers so tight, even longer for him to dislodge his jaw from his shoulder. Piers winces at each movement. He lets them rock together, coming down from the euphoric bliss swimming around their heads. 

Fatigue settles in their bones, Piers feeling heavy and light all at the same time. His hand falls to his side weakly. A hand kneads at his bicep, the other rubbing over his stomach. It works wonders for his body, though it still feels gross to have his own release drying on him. Almost as if he can sense his discomfort, Chris eases Piers off his softened member. As gentle as can be, Chris carries him over their bed and sets him down gently atop the blankets before disappearing back into the bathroom. Chris is gone for only a minute before he returns with a damp cloth, no longer wearing the condom. Piers smiles lazily up at him. 

Rather quickly, he finds that the water is warm, soothing his muscles as Chris wipes him clean. He’s very gentle about it, slow as he wipes off his thighs, slower as he cleans his dick. Piers sighs in content, curling in on himself when Chris leaves once more. Piers doesn’t care where the rag is discarded. He only cares about the warmth that envelops his front as Chris slides into bed with him, one arm around his chest, the other resting under his head.

Piers cuddles closer to him, nuzzling right under Chris’ chin. He can feel Chris chuckle from deep in his chest, the man’s arm comes higher, pulls him closer. For the first time in a while, Piers doesn’t mind what he looks like, if only for right now. 

Like this, everything feels alright again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Give me two days and 30mg of Vyvanse and I’ll write you a 10k word, 2 chapter fic, drafted, edited, edited again and posted before day 3  
> No I am not joking


End file.
